


Powerless

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidents, Apologies, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Description of Injuries, F/F, Girls Kissing, Holding Hands, Hurt, Hurt Rowena, Hurt/Comfort, Impatient Rowena, Injury, Kissing, Medication, Pain, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Reader accidentally hits Rowena, who was shot by a hunter, in her sleep.





	Powerless

Rowena MacLeod was a precious little thing.

Laying on the bed cocooned in a blanket, she looked the picture of adorable. Her hair remained perfect despite not being combed since the morning, not a single ginger tendril out of place. Her nails were the color of blood, the red standing out amidst the paleness of her fingers and toes. She was looking at you, cat-like eyes big and curious.

You smiled at her. She smiled back. Then she winced, as the motion pulled at her split lip, and smoothed her lips into a line. Your heart sank, a pang of pain shooting through it. With her powers unbound, you thought these days were behind you; days of Rowena getting hurt and spending days recovering from the injuries. But here you were again.

Yesterday, Rowena had gotten shot by a hunter. The bastard had intended to kill her, but lucky for her, the witch-killing bullet wasn't deadly now that she had her full magic back.

Unlucky for her, there were still side-effects.

The bullet had blocked her magic, leaving her powerless. The hunter had taken notice of that and, having used up his last remaining witch-killing bullet, he had decided to finish her off the old-fashioned way.

By the time you heard her screams, he had already beaten her to a pulp. He had spared no punches and kicks, hitting every inch of her body he could get his paws on.

You had made sure his last few minutes of life were full of suffering.

Unfortunately, you couldn't do much for Rowena. The bullet had not only blocked her magic – it had also nullified other magic the moment it would come in contact with her body. Potions and healing spells were rendered useless.

Just like the hunter, you were forced to go the old-fashioned way. You interrogated every junkie you had come across in town until you found one who was on what you needed. A few threats you were ready to act on, for your girl was in need and there was no time to waste, and the man had given you the address of his dealer. Half an hour later, you were in possession of the sought-after medicine.

Getting the bullet out had been the hardest part. That, and making sure that Rowena didn't overdose. You had to Google the correct dosage before you felt brave enough to give her the medicine.

Ever since then, Rowena had been heavily medicated. She was drowsy all the time and had spent a large part of the day asleep. You missed having her around the house; missed her complaints about the way you make your coffee, missed suddenly finding her arms around you when she craved attention, missed her whiny voice whispering in your ear, "Darling, I feel neglected." But this wasn't about you. It was about your girl. For as long as she was on medicine, she wasn't in pain.

Turning off the lights, you crawled into bed with her and joined her under the blanket. You spooned her from behind, wrapping your arms around her middle with utmost care. The last thing you wanted was to hurt her. She had been through enough this past year. Not only had she had to deal with the trauma Lucifer's torture had left her with, she also had to heal from the beating the normal, human way. She predicted it would take a few days for her magic to return. Until then, she had to rely on the medication.

"This okay?" you asked.

"Yes, dear." There was a tired strain in Rowena's voice.

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Like hell," she replied, a touch of bitterness in her tone. That had been her answer every time you asked her; same words, same tone of voice. The situation frustrated her to no end. Her newly restored magic would have healed her in a matter of seconds. Losing it, even for a couple of days, and being forced to endure pain and bear cuts and bruises was driving her insane.

You pressed a kiss to the back of her head, soft, gentle, a brush of lips against the silk of her hair. "If it starts hurting again, wake me up and I'll give you some more medicine."

She made a noise of disgust. You couldn't see her face, but you were willing to bet her expression matched the sound. "I hate it."

"I know, sweetheart, but you need it."

She sighed, defeated. "I want my magic back." She said with a whine, like a sad puppy.

"Be patient," you said. You felt like a hypocrite saying that. If there was one thing you hated, it was waiting. But neither of you had any other choice than to wait for the bullet's effects to pass. It was hell, but it was also the only option. Just as Rowena hated being helpless, you couldn't stand looking at her like that. Your girl was strong and brave, a force of nature. Crying fits, nightmares, and flashbacks were one thing. A hug and a few comforting words and kisses could calm them, at least for a little while. Cuts and bruises all over her body and the gunshot wound on her stomach couldn't be fixed with a hug. Not even temporarily.

"I  _have_  been patient!" Rowena said petulantly, like a child throwing a tantrum. You couldn't blame her. In her shoes, you would be doing more than just complain. "I'm sick of lying in bed and sleeping all the time. I feel like a prisoner."

"Come on, now. A prisoner? I'm with you all the time."

She sighed. "I want out of this bed, out of this room. It's suffocating me!"

"You have to rest."

"I've been resting for over a day!"

You understood her frustrations, but there was nothing you could do to make it easy for her. The weight of the reality crushed you, making your heartbeats fasten. You were just as helpless as she was. You couldn't help her. You couldn't make her better. The only thing you could do was numb her pain – and, in the process, numb her body and mind, as well.

Your hand found Rowena's and squeezed it. Her thin, delicate fingers curled around yours. She needed this as much as you had, if not more. Your thumb caressed the top of her hand. Her skin was soft, dappled with bumps of veins. She was so tiny, so soft and fragile. A doll of a person; a porcelain one, to be handled with care. She trusted you enough to show you that side of her, trusted you not to use it against her and consider her weak. Both of you knew she was anything but. This little woman was the strongest person you knew. A bit of vulnerability had only been firmer proof of her strength.

"Give it a bit more time," you told her. "I know it sucks, but there's nothing else you can do. Besides, it's not  _that_  bad. You have me all to yourself. I'm basically your servant. If anyone's a prisoner, it's me."

Rowena let out a small laugh. "Come, now, dear. It's not  _that_  bad." She echoed your words, a bit of purposeful mockery in her tone.

"I deserved that," you admitted. You smiled. "You comfortable?"

"Aye."

"Nothing hurts?"

"Not yet."

"You sure?"

You could basically feel her frowning. "Would I keep something like that a secret?"

"Sometimes you do."

"Not this time," she said.

"Okay," you allowed. "Try to be more patient, alright?"

"No," she said petulantly.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "Please? For me?"

"No."

You let out a defeated sigh. There was no point in arguing her. Nothing you said was going to change her mind. You pressed another kiss to the back of her head and nuzzled her hair with the tip of your nose. "Goodnight, sweet girl."

"Goodnight, darling," she said. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Thank you" under her breath, but you couldn't hear it clearly. You decided not to comment. Despite acting like a brat, you knew Rowena appreciated you taking care of her. She didn't have to acknowledge it with words. You knew her enough to know when she was being mean, and when she was genuine. She was grateful, just as she had been every other time you had taken care of her. The thing with Rowena was that she showed rather than told. She rarely expressed affection or appreciation with words. Kisses, cuddles, and presents were her way of saying "thank you" and "I love you."

Aside from numbing her pain, one positive effect of the medication had been the lack of nightmares. For the first time in over half a year, Rowena slept peacefully. Her unconscious mind had been a blank; she could remember nothing except for the darkness, welcoming, comforting. Her mind had finally gotten some ease. Even if it was short lasted, both of you decided to make the best of it.

Just because Rowena was couldn't dream didn't mean you couldn't. The hunter was chasing you and Rowena through a thick, moonlit forest. You tripped. For some reason you couldn't get up; no matter how hard Rowena tried to pull you to your feet, your legs refused to cooperate. Suddenly, she was gone. In her place stood the hunter. He was looming over you, his eyes flashing a sinister, threatening red. He grinned wide, like the Cheshire cat, flashing a set of rotted, yellowed teeth. Then his face morphed into that of the monster you hoped you would never see again. Lucifer stared you directly in the eyes, the sharpness of his red ones keeping you in place. He knelt down, reaching for you. His hands bore claws instead of nails, black and sharp like that of a bird of prey. You pushed against his hands, trying to shove him off. You pushed and shoved, pushed and shoved, rinse and repeat. Your efforts seemed to go to waste.

Then he screamed. And he screamed and screamed and screamed, like a banshee announcing death.

Only, those weren't Lucifer's screams.

They were Rowena's!

You opened your eyes. The dawn had settled, the morning sun lighting up the room even through the thick drapes. Rowena's hand was smacking yours. You pulled it back, releasing her from your hold, and sat up, startled. Rowena curled up, hands clasped over her stomach. Her breathing was fast, frantic, as if someone had held a tape over her nose and mouth for a few minutes and had finally removed it, letting her take a breath. Pained gasps and whines tore from her throat, one after the other.

"Rowena–"

You reached to touch her. As soon as your hand came in contact with her shoulder, she flinched and cut you off with an exclamation of, "Don't touch me!"

She sounded pissed off.

You were confused.

Have you hurt her?

No, you couldn't have. You  _wouldn'_ _t_  have.

What if you had?

_Oh, my god!_

"I'm sorry," you said from the bottom of your heart. You would have never harmed her on purpose. "I'm so sorry, Rowena."

You thought you were fighting Lucifer. That was exactly what you  _had_ been doing - in the dream. In reality, you were hitting Rowena. You were hitting her right in the bandaged-up gunshot wound.

Tears burned at your eyes. The revelation that you had hurt her had been bad enough. You couldn't bear the thought of her being mad at you. It was only natural that she lashed out. She had been woken up by pain inflicted on her by a person she trusted, a person who had sworn to take care of her and protect her. Neither of you had expected that you would hurt her. Conscious, you never would have. Hell, you had not even hurt her when you had nightmares.

How could one dream of Lucifer cause such damage?

Rowena's breaths slowed down. Her groans of pain melted into peaceful silence. Her hands trembled as they parted from her stomach. She pushed herself to lie on her back; a hiss escaped her as she collapsed on the wrinkled sheet, swallowing a pained cry.

"You okay?" you asked. Your voice was soft, almost as low as a whisper. You didn't want to startle her again.

"Aye." One look at her told you it was a lie. Rowena sighed, admitting defeat. "No. It hurts." Her face wrinkled in pain at the word "hurts" in emphasis. Any other time you would have found the expression adorable. You still had, but you kept it to yourself. Now was not the time for pleasantries.

"Did-did I hit you hard?"

"Yes."

Your face fell. A single tear slid down your cheek. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry," you said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear."

"I know, dear." Rowena smiled through the pain. "It's not that bad. I've been hurt worse."

She should not have been hurt  _at all._

"Want the pills?" you offered.

"Yes, please." She sounded desperate. She had never wanted them that badly.

You hurried to fetch the pills and a glass of water. Laying them down on the nightstand, you helped Rowena sit up. She allowed you to pull her up, every movement slow, careful. The gunshot wound wasn't the only injury you had to mind. Some of the bruises were very painful to the touch. You handed her the pills and the glass; your hands covered hers, helping her hold it up to her mouth and take a few gulps. As much as Rowena enjoyed being pampered, she hated not being able to eat and drink on her own. She let you help her without complaint, but the expression on her face made it clear that she wasn't thrilled by being treated like a child.

There wasn't much – or anything, really – that you could do about it. She would have to deal with it.

Tucking her back into bed, this time on her back, you laid down beside her, on your side so you could face her.

"I'm really sorry."

Rowena turned her head to look at you. "It's fine."

She wasn't mad at you anymore. She most likely never was; she had only snapped out of instinct. A cat would scratch you if you stepped on its tail. Not out of malice or any ill feelings. It would simply lash out. Just like Rowena.

You still felt guilty. You had not meant t hurt her, but the fact remained that you had. Your girl, your most beloved, had been in pain because of you.

"It was an accident," you said. She had to understand. You  _needed_  her to understand.

"I know," Rowena said. Her hand found yours and squeezed it. Her touch filled you with warmth. Nothing could compare to the feeling of Rowena's skin on yours. "Don't dwell on it. I'm not going to fall apart; I'm not made of glass."

"I just hate seeing you in pain."

"Like you said, it will pass soon. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can handle a bit of pain. Don't you worry your pretty, wee head. I will be okay."

You knew she would be. Lucifer had not been able to get rid of her for good – twice. The witch-killing bullet had not been able to kill her. She could live with a painful wound for a few days, until her magic returned to heal it. Nobody knew pain like she had. A gunshot wound was nothing in comparison to being blinded, having her skull crushed, and then being set on fire while still alive. If she survived that, she could survive this. You believed in her.

You nodded in acknowledgment of her words. "I know you will." You brought your linked hands to your mouth and pressed a kiss to her fingers. They were warm, just like the rest of her. Rowena's skin was always warm. Perfect for cuddling under the covers during cold winter nights. "Does it still hurt?"

"A bit less," she replied. She let out a yawn. You smiled; her yawns, alongside her pouts and scrunches, were adorable. "The pills are starting to work."

So you could see. "Good. Get some rest, sweetheart."

Shifting into a more comfortable position, you closed your eyes and gave yourself away to the darkness. Your hand clutched Rowena's, as much for her comfort as for yours. Hopefully, this time around there would be no hunter or Lucifer haunting your dreams. Just welcome, blissful emptiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by my friend OswinTheStrange.


End file.
